(Quite alot of this page never made it to the final version)
(Pictures to be added shortly.....)



Without a cut the wrinkled, weathered landscape of age has appeared around her eyes. But the eyes themselves are the same.

OLD ROSE: After all these years, feel it closing around my throat like a dog collar.
THE CAMERA PULLS BACK to show her whole face.
OLD ROSE: I can still feel its weight. If you could have felt it, not just seen it...
LOVETT: Well, that's the general idea, my dear.
BODINE: So let me get this right. You were gonna kill yourself by jumping off the Titanic?

(he guffaws)

That's great!

LOVETT: (warningly) Lewis...
But Rose laughs with Bodine.
BODINE: (still laughing) All you had to do was wait two days!
Lovett, standing out of Rose's sightline, checks his watch. Hours have passed. This process is taking too long.
LOVETT: Rose, tell us more about the diamond. What did Hockley do with it after that?
OLD ROSE: I'm afraid I'm feeling a little tired, Mr. Lovett.
Lizzy picks up the cue and starts to wheel her out.
LOVETT: Wait! Can you give us something go on, here. Like who had access to the safe. What about this Lovejoy guy? The valet. Did he have the combination?
LIZZY: That's enough.
Lizzy takes her out. Rose's old hand reappears at the doorway in a frail wave goodbye.



As the big hydraulic jib swings one of the Mir subs out over the water. Lovett walks as he talks with Bobby Buell, the partners' rep. They weave among deck cranes, launch crew, sub maintenance guys.

BUELL: The partners are pissed.
LOVETT: Bobby, buy me time. I need time.
BUELL: We're running thirty thousand a day, and we're six days over. I'm telling you what they're telling me. The hand is on the plug. It's starting to pull.
LOVETT: Well you tell the hand I need another two days! Bobby, Bobby, Bobby...we're close! I smell it. I smell ice. She had the diamond on... now we justhave to find out where it wound up. I just gotta work her a bit more. Okay?
Brock turns and sees Lizzy standing behind him. She has overheard the past part of his dialogue with Buell. He goes to her and hustles her away from Buell, toward a quite spot on the deck.
LOVETT: Hey, Lizzy. I need to talk to you for a second.
LIZZY: Don't you mean work me?
LOVETT: Look, I'm running out of time. I need your help.
LIZZY: I'm not going to help you browbeat my hundred and one year old grandmother. I came down here to tell you to back off.
LOVETT: (with undisguised desperation) Lizzy... you gotta understand something. I've bet it all to find the Heart of the Ocean. I've got all my dough tied up in this thing. My wife even divorced me over this hunt. I need what's locked inside your grandma's memory.

(he holds out his hand) You see this? Right here?

She looks at his hand, palm up. Empty. Cupped, as if around an imaginary shape.
LIZZY: What?
LOVETT: That's the shape my hand's gonna be when I hold that thing. You understand? I'm not leaving here without it.
LIZZY: Look, Brock, she's going to do this her way, in her own time. Don't forget, she contacted you. She's out here for her own reasons, God knows what they are.
LOVETT: Maybe she wants to make peace with the past.
LIZZY: What past? She has never once, not once, ever said a word about being on the Titanic until two days ago.
LOVETT: Then we're all meeting your grandmother for the first time.
LIZZY: (looks at him hard) You think she was really there?
LOVETT: Oh, yeah. Yeah, I'm a believer. She was there.


Bodine starts the tape recorder. Rose is gazing at the screen seeing THE LIVE FEED FROM THE WRECK--SNOOP DOG is moving along the starboard side of the hull, heading aft. The rectangular windows of A deck (forward) march past on the right.

OLD ROSE: The next day, Saturday, I remember thinking how the sunlight felt.


MATCH DISSOLVE from the rusting hulk to the gleaming new Titanic in 1912, passing the end of the enclosed promenade just as Rose walks into the sunlight right in front of us. She is stunningly dressed and walking with purpose.

OLD ROSE (V.O.): As if I hadn't felt the sun in years.
IT IS SATURDAY APRIL 13, 1912. Rose unlatches the gate to go down into third class. The steerage men on the deck stop what they're doing and stare at her.



The social center of steerage life. It is stark by comparison to the opulence of first class, but is a loud, boisterous place. There are mothers with babies, kids running between the benches yelling in several languages and being scolded in several more. There are old women yelling, men playing chess, girls doing needlepoint and reading dime novels. There is even an upright piano and Tommy Ryan is noodling around it.

Three boys, shrieking and shouting, are scrambling around chasing a rat under the benches, trying to whomp it with a shoe and causing general havoc. Jack is playing with 5 year old CORA CARTMELL, drawing funny faces together in his sketchbook.

Fabrizio is struggling to get a conversation going with an attractive Norwegian girl, HELGA DAHL, sitting with her family at a table across the room.

FABRIZIO: No Italian? Some little English?
HELGA: No, no. Norwegian. Only.
Helga's eye is caught by something. Fabrizio looks, does a take... and Jack, curious, follows their gaze to see...

Rose, coming toward them. The activity in the room stops... a hush falls. Rose feels suddenly self-conscious as the steerage passengers stare openly at this princess, some with resentment, others with awe. She spots Jack and gives a little smile, walking straight to him. He rises to meet her, smiling.

ROSE: Hello Jack.
Fabrizio and Tommy are floored. It's like the slipper fitting Cinderella.
JACK: Hello again.
ROSE: Could I speak to you in private?
JACK: Uh, yes. Of course. After you.
He motions her ahead and follows. Jack glances over his shoulder, one eyebrow raised, as he walks out with her leaving a stunned silence.



Jack and Rose walk side by side. They pass people reading and talking in steamer chairs, some of whom glance curiously at the mismatched couple. He feels out of place in his rough clothes. They are both awkward, for different reasons.

JACK: So, you got a name by the way?
ROSE: Rose. Rose DeWitt Bukater.
JACK: That's quite a moniker. I may hafta get you to write that down.
There is an awkward pause.
ROSE: Mr. Dawson, I--
JACK: Jack.
ROSE: Jack... I feel like such an idiot. It took me all morning to get up the nerve to face you.
JACK: Well, here you are.
ROSE: Here I am. I... I want to thank you for what you did. Not just for... for pulling me back. But for your discretion.
JACK: You're welcome. Rose.
ROSE: Look, I know what you must be thinking! Poor little rich girl. What does she know about misery?
JACK: That's not what I was thinking. What I was thinking was... what could have happened to hurt this girl so much she though she had no way out.
ROSE: I don't... it wasn't just one thing. It was everything. It was them, it was their whole world. And I was trapped in it, like an insect in amber.

(in a rush) I just had to get away... just run and run and run... and then I was at theback rail and there was no more ship... even the Titanic wasn't big enough. Not enough to get away from them. And before I'd really though about it, I was over the rail. I was so furious. I'll show them. They'll be sorry!

JACK: Uh huh. They'll be sorry. 'Course you'll be dead.
ROSE: (she lowers her head) Oh God, I am such an utter fool.
JACK: That penguin last night, is he one of them?
ROSE: Penguin? Oh, Cal! He is them.
JACK: Is he your boyfriend?
ROSE: Worse I'm afraid.
She shows him her engagement ring. A sizable diamond.
JACK: Gawd look at that thing! You would have gone straight to the bottom.
They laugh together. A passing steward scowls at Jack, who is clearly not a first class passenger, but Rose just glares at him away.
JACK: So you feel like you're stuck on a train you can't get off 'cause you're marryin' this fella.
ROSE: Yes, exactly!
JACK: So don't marry him.
ROSE: If only it were that simple.
JACK: It is that simple.
ROSE: Oh, Jack... please don't judge me until you've seen my world.
JACK: Well, I guess I will tonight.
Looking for another topic, any other topic, she indicates his sketchbook.
ROSE: What's this?
JACK: Just some sketches.
ROSE: May I?
The question is rhetorical because she has already grabbed the book. She sits on a deck chair and opens the sketchbook. ON JACK'S sketches... each one an expressive little bit of humanity: an old woman's hands, a sleeping man, a father and daughter at the rail. The faces are luminous and alive. His book is a celebration of the human condition.
ROSE: Jack, these are quite good! Really, they are.
JACK: Well, they didn't think too much of 'em in Paree.
Some loose sketches fall out and are taken by the wind. Jack scrambles after them... catching two, but the rest are gone, over the rail.
ROSE: Oh no! Oh, I'm so sorry. Truly!
JACK: Well, they didn't think too much of 'em in Paree.
He snaps his wrist, shaking his drawing hand in a flourish.
JACK: I just seem to spew 'em out. Besides, they're not worth a damn anyway.
For emphasis he throws away the two he caught. They sail off.
ROSE: (laughing) You're deranged!
She goes back to the book, turning a page.
ROSE: Well, well...
She has come upon a series of nudes. Rose is transfixed by the languid beauty he has created. His nudes are soulful, real, with expressive hands and eyes. They feel more like portraits than studies of the human form... almost uncomfortably intimate. Rose blushes, raising the book as some strollers go by.
ROSE: (trying to be very adult) And these were drawn from life?
JACK: Yup. That's one of the great things about Paris. Lots of girls willing take their clothes off.
She studies one drawing in particular, the girl posed half in sunlight, half in shadow. Her hands lie at her chin, one furled and one open like a flower, languid and graceful. The drawing is like an Alfred Steiglitz print of Georgia O'Keefe.
ROSE: You liked this woman. You used her several times.
JACK: She had beautiful hands.
ROSE: (smiling) I think you must have had a love affair with her...
JACK: (laughing) No, no! Just with her hands.
ROSE: (looking up from the drawings) You have a gift, Jack. You do. You see people.
JACK: I see you.
There it is. That piercing gaze again.
ROSE: And...?
JACK: You wouldn'ta jumped.


Ruth is having tea with NOEL LUCY MARTHA DYER-EDWARDES, the COUNTESS OF ROTHES, a 35ish English blue-blood with patirician features. Ruth sees someone coming across the room and lowers her voice.

RUTH: Oh no, that vulgar Brown woman is coming this way. Get up, quickly before she sits with us.
Molly Brown walks up, greeting them cheerfully as they are rising.
MOLLY: Hello girls, I was hoping I'd catch you at tea.
RUTH: We're awfully sorry you missed it. The Countess and I are just off to take the air on the boat deck.
MOLLY: That sounds great. Let's go. I need to catch up on the gossip.
Ruth grits her teeth as the three of them head for the Grand Staircase to go up. TRACKING WITH THEM, as they cross the room, the SHOT HANDS OFF to Bruce Ismay and Captain Smith at another table.
ISMAY: So you've not lit the last four boilers then?
CAPTAIN SMITH: No, but we're making excellent time.
ISMAY: (impatiently) Captain, the press knows the size of Titanic, let them marvel at her speed too. We must give them something new to print. And the maiden voyage of Titanic must make headlines!
CAPTAIN SMITH: I prefer not to push the engines until they've been properly run in.
ISMAY: Of course I leave it to your good offices to decide what's best, but what a glorious end to your last crossing if we get into New York Tuesday night and surprise them all.

(Ismay slaps his hand on the table) Retire with a bang, eh, E.J?

A beat. Then Smith nods, stiffly.



Rose and Jack stroll aft, past people lounging on deck chairs in the slanting late-afternoon light. Stewards scurry to serve tea or hot cocoa.

ROSE: (girlish and excited) You know, my dream has always been to just chuck it all and become an artist... living in a garret, poor but free!
JACK: (laughing) You wouldn't last two days. There's no hot water, and hardly ever any caviar.
ROSE: (angry in a flash) Listen, buster... I hate caviar! And I'm tired of people dismissing my dreams with a chuckle and a pat on the head.
JACK: I'm sorry. Really... I am.
ROSE: Well, alright. There's something in me, Jack. I feel it. I don't know what it is, whether I should be an artist, or, I don't know... a dancer. Like Isadora Duncan.... a wild pagan spirit...
She leaps forward, lands deftly and whirls like a dervish. Then she sees something ahead and her face lights up.
ROSE: ...or a moving picture actress!
She takes his hand and runs, pulling him along the deck toward--

DANIEL AND MARY MARVIN. Daniel is cranking the big wooden movie camera as she poses stiffly at the rail.

MARVIN: You're sad. Sad, sad, sad. You've left your lover on the shore. You may never see him again. Try to be sadder, darling.
SUDDENLY Rose shoots into the shot and strikes a theatrical pose at the rail next to Mary. Mary bursts out laughing. Rose pulls Jack into the picture and makes him pose.

Marvin grins and starts yelling and gesturing. We see this in CUTS, with music and no dialogue.


Rose posing tragically at the rail, the back of her hand to her forehead.

Jack on a deck chair, pretending to be a Pasha, the two girls pantomiming fanning him like slave girls.

Jack, on his knees, pleading with his hands clasped while Rose, standing, turns her head in bored disdain.

Rose cranking the camera, while Daniel and Jack have a western shoot-out. Jack wins and leers into the lens, twirling an air mustache like Snidely Whiplash.



Painted with orange light, Jack and Rose lean on the A-deck rail aft, shoulder to shoulder. The ship's lights come on.

It is a magical moment... perfect.

ROSE: So then what, Mr. Wandering Jack?
JACK: Well, then logging got to be too much like work, so I went down to Los Angeles to the pier in Santa Monica. That's a swell place, they even have a rollercoaster. I sketched portraits there for ten cents a piece.
ROSE: A whole ten cents?!
JACK: (not getting it) Yeah; it was great money... I could make a dollar a day, sometimes. Butonly in summer. When it got cold, I decided to go to Paris and see what the real artists were doing.
ROSE: (looks at the dusk sky)Why can't I be like you Jack? Just head out for the horizon whenever I feel like it.

(turning to him) Say we'll go there, sometime... to that pier... even if we only ever just talk about it.

JACK: Alright, we're going. We'll drink cheap beer and go on the rollercoaster until we throw up and we'll ride horses on the beach... right in thesurf... but you have to ride like a cowboy, none of that side-saddle stuff.
ROSE: You mean one leg on each side? Scandalous! Can you show me?
JACK: Sure. If you like.
ROSE: (smiling at him) I think I would.

(she looks at the horizon) And teach me to spit too. Like a man. Why should only men be able to spit. It's unfair.

JACK: They didn't teach you that in finishing school? Here, it's easy. Watch closely.
He spits. It arcs out over the water.
JACK: Your turn.
Rose screws up her mouth and spits. A pathetic little bit of foamy spittle which mostly runs down her chin before falling off into the water.
JACK: Nope, that was pitiful. Here, like this... you hawk it down... HHHNNNK!...then roll it on your tongue, up to the front, like thith, then a big breath and PLOOOW!! You see the range on that thing?
She goes through the steps. Hawks it down, etc. He coaches her through it (ad lib) while doing the steps himself. She lets fly. So does he. Two comets of gob fly out over the water.
JACK: That was great!
Rose turns to him, her face alight. Suddenly she blanches. He sees her expression and turns.

RUTH, the Countess of Rothes, and Molly Brown have been watching them hawking lugees. Rose becomes instantly composed.

ROSE: Mother, may I introduce Jack Dawson.
RUTH: Charmed, I'm sure.
Jack has a little spit running down his chin. He doesn't know it. Molly Brown is grinning. As Rose proceeds with the introductions, we hear...
OLD ROSE (V.O.): The others were gracious and curious about the man who'd saved my life. But my mother looked at him like an insect. A dangerous insect which must be squashed quickly.
MOLLY: Well, Jack, it sounds like you're a good man to have around in a sticky spot--
They all jump as a BUGLER sounds the meal call right behind them.
MOLLY: Why do they insist on always announcing dinner like a damn cavalry charge?
ROSE: Shall we go dress, mother?

(over her shoulder) See you at dinner, Jack.

RUTH: (as they walk away) Rose, look at you... out in the sun with no hat. Honestly!
The Countess exits with Ruth and Rose, leaving Jack and Molly alone on deck.
MOLLY: Son, do you have the slightest comprehension of what you're doing?
JACK: Not really.
MOLLY: Well, you're about to go into the snakepit. I hope you're ready. What are you planning to wear?
Jack looks down at his clothes. Back up at her. He hadn't thought about that.
MOLLY: I figured.


Men's suits and jackets and formal wear are strewn all over the place. Molly is having a fine time. Jack is dressed, except for his jacket, and Molly is tying his bow tie.

MOLLY: Don't feel bad about it. My husband still can't tie one of these damn things after 20 years. There you go.
She picks up a jacket off the bed and hands it to him. Jack goes into the bathroom to put it on. Molly starts picking up the stuff off the bed.
MOLLY: I gotta buy everything in three sizes 'cause I never know how much he's been eating while I'm away.
She turns and sees him, though we don't.
MOLLY: My, my, my... you shine up like a new penny.